Eight Miles and Running
by snipershezz
Summary: The Centaurian tried to avoid the gym when his first mate was off shift for – Just – for reasons, ok?


**Characters: **Yondu Udonta, Kraglin Obfonteri,

**Relationships: **Yondu Udonta/Kraglin Obfonteri

**Tags: **kinktober, kinktober 2018, working out, sthenolagnia, strength kink, first time, sexual fantasies, masturbation, kissing, wall sex, shower sex,

**Warnings: **None.

**Summary: **The Centaurian tried to avoid the gym when his first mate was off shift for –

Just – for _reasons,_ ok?

**October 9****th**** \- Prompt Nine: **Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles)

**A/N: **This kink is my *thing*. Just a quiet, all-consuming *thing* for tall, skinny men who can throw you about like you weigh nothing *at all*.

The concept of Hrax and Hraxian!Kraglin comes from the incredible Write_Like_An_American, who's stories I utterly adore (and you should totally go read, like, all of them because they are amazing) So, shout to them for creating it because none of my stories would exist without their ideas :)

**Part Nine of **_**Kinktober 2018**_**.**

#kinktober

* * *

The interesting thing about Ravagers is they always appeared, sporadic and unorganised, a crazed bunch of lunatics that hollered and stole their way across galaxies.

The funny thing about that is – it just ain't true.

Ravagers have a code, see?

Any captain worth their salt ran a fucking tight ship, or they got left behind. Even the exiled ones.

Yondu Udonta was worth his fucking salt. Even if the ninety-nine didn't think so.

Which was why despite being up for fourteen hours already, the Centaurian was down in the gym, hitting the treadmill for his standard sixty.

The thing about spending most of your life in low-g on a space ship was, if you didn't keep to an almost punishing exercise routine, you weren't any cop at all groundside. Yondu's crew was a terrifying force of nature and being captain didn't make him any exception to the rule.

The Centaurian tried to avoid the gym when his first mate was off shift for –

Just – for _reasons,_ ok?

Unfortunately for him, Kraglin had also been up for fourteen hours and had seemingly had the same idea as he did. The Hraxian was currently doing push ups on the mats – with ten-year-old Peter sitting cross-legged on his back. The tiny Terran clapped him on the shoulder, "That's one fifty Kraglin, com'on fifty more! One fifty-three, one fifty-four, one fifty-five –"

The Centaurian watched as sweat dripped from the man's mohawk trickling down his nose and dropping in a steady stream onto the mat. His eyes followed pale hands, up hairy forearms to bugling biceps and stayed there, watching the muscles shift back and forth under almost translucent skin. Yondu's mouth was suddenly very dry and he cursed himself out internally before tearing his eyes away and focusing on the timer on the treadmill.

Eight miles with five more minutes to go.

Just five more minutes and he could escape to hit the showers.

If he was lucky, none of the crew would be in there and he could beat his stupid, disloyal cock into submission too.

"Two hundred!" Peter crowed, snapping Yondu's attention back to the pair as Kraglin collapsed on the mat. "Nice job dude, you're a machine!"

The Terran jumped up and Kraglin rolled onto his back with a tired chuckle, "Thanks kid." Peter tossed him a towel and the Hraxian slung it around his neck as he stood, "Now piss off an' go annoy someone else yeah?"

Peter stuck his tongue out at the man, "I gotta help Tullk with inventory anyway. Bye!" He called over his shoulder as he flounced off.

Kraglin snickered and shook his head, "Fuckin' kid." He muttered as he made his way to the treadmill. "Hey Cap, ya done?"

Yondu took in the taller man – sweaty, flushed and smirking – and grunted, hitting the stop button and sliding to a halt. "All yers Obfonteri."

"Thanks sir."

The Centaurian tried not to breathe in that amazing metallic tang his first mate always gave off as he passed and stalked off to the showers.

He threw his workout gear into the steriliser and punched the shower button with slightly more force than necessary. The Centaurian leaned a forearm against the tiles and groaned as the hot water hit his tired muscles.

What the hell was the matter with him?

Just what in the fuck was it about watching Kraglin's skinny ass, sweating and flushed that got him so goddamn hot and bothered?

The strength in that lithe frame was astounding, he could easily lift things, three and four times his weight, without any effort _at all_. As skinny as the Hraxian was, his muscles were _very_ well defined, the bastard had prettiest washboard abs Yondu had ever seen and good fucking _God_ – those biceps – talk about _yum_.

The Centaurian grit his teeth and thumped a fist against the tiles in front of him, irritated at his own wandering thoughts. It weren't right, a captain lusting after crew – especially not his fucking first mate. There were all sorts of problems associated with that.

Yondu glared down at his rapidly hardening dick and gave it a snarl.

Which didn't do shit.

He sighed, glancing about the empty room.

The Centaurian gave a mental shrug. There was no one _around_. No harm in indulging a little fantasy –

Right?

Yondu closed his eyes and slipped a hand down to his erection, starting up a leisurely rhythm.

His mind brought forth the image of Kraglin earlier in the day, snarling and spitting as he chewed out one of the crew members for a stupid mistake. The man was at least twice the size of the Hraxian and Kraglin had him pinned to the wall in one fist, feet dangling a foot off the ground. Yondu had just about swallowed his tongue at the time and now, heat flooded his veins and his dick twitched in his palm.

He imagined what it would feel like to be pinned against the wall with all that lithe strength. Images of Kraglin hoisting the Centaurian up around his hips and fucking him until the tiles under his back cracked flooded his mind. Each situation followed in rapid succession.

In the showers, across his bed, on his desk, in the captain's chair, hiked up against the console in his m-ship – each scenario taking him higher and higher.

Yondu's mouth opened in a wet pant as his hand flew across his cock. The forbidden name fell from his lips in a groan.

Suddenly, it all became very real as a heat plastered itself across Yondu's back and a pale hand batted his away and replaced it, settling into the same intense rhythm.

Immediately the Centaurian let out a vicious snarl, bucking back and attempting to push the person away. A hand gripped his shoulder and spun him, his spine hitting the tiles with a force that made him hiss.

Kraglin's face appeared in his vision, mohawk plastered to his forehead in wild tuffs, water dripping from his substantial nose. The intensity in the taller man's eyes was almost desperate, "Cap – Yondu – just – le'me. Please?"

The Centaurian made a split-second decision, pulling the Hraxian flush, yanking him down by the chin and slotting their mouths together. Kraglin made a surprised sound followed with a heartfelt groan. Yondu gasped as the Hraxian gripped his thighs and pushed him up the tiles, settling the Centaurian's thick thighs around his skinny hips. Kraglin swallowed the gasp, threading his tongue between craggy teeth to curl around the older man's slightly coarser one.

Yondu's lustful fantasy was rapidly becoming a reality and his fingers came up to loop and tangle in the Hraxian's wet hair. Long pale fingers gripped his ass, sliding down in between, to _exactly _where the Centaurian needed them _right fucking now_.

The older man ripped his mouth away in a gasp, implant hitting the tiles with a metallic clack. Kraglin nosed his way under Yondu's jaw to nip at the exposed collarbone with sharp teeth. The Hraxian's fingers stretched and scissored until he was satisfied, and the captain was a shuddering mess.

Kraglin pulled the hand away and resumed his choke hold on a chunky blue thigh, "Yondu?" He panted heavily, "Ya – ya sure?"

The Centaurian's head rolled around limply to look the taller man in the eyes, "Christ Kraglin! If ya dun stick yer fuckin' cock in me right _fuckin'_ now, I'mma tear yer goddamn throat out."

The Hraxian groaned, "yes'sir," and thrust his hips forwards roughly.

Yondu's eyes rolled back and his head dropped to the taller man's shoulder, fingers sliding down to grip those sinful biceps that got him hard and going mental at the worst fucking times.

His back hit the tiles in a hard, repetitive rhythm that was going to leave him with big lovely purple bruises by the time they were finished, and he groaned loudly. Kraglin's fingers let go of the vice grip on his leg, coming around to match the pace on his dick and the Centaurian was sure he'd died as his mind flew apart, white-hot and totally _fucking _perfect.

Through the fuzzy afterglow he heard Kraglin snarl and go still. Panting wetly under the spray of tepid water.

"Jesus fuck." Yondu grunted, "Put me down Kraglin, ya must be killin' yer back, I 'in't light."

The Hraxian gave a tired scoff, "Ya dun weigh nothin'." He hefted the captain off the wall and stood with him wrapped around him like a limpet, under the shower head. He gave the Centaurian that goofy smirk, and said quietly, "Ain't more'n a feather, Yondu."

The older man swallowed heavily, "Unless ya think ya c'n repeat that performance again in tha next thirty seconds ya need'ta stop showin' off all that strength darlin'. Gits me real hot."

A pretty blush spread across Kraglin's nose at the pet name and he raised an eyebrow, "Yer cabin or mine?"

Yondu gave him a filthy leer in return.

They may have been up for fourteen hours already, but it was another ten before either of them got any sleep.

Unsurprisingly, neither were bothered by this.

At _all_.


End file.
